


Dog

by dornfelder



Series: Assorted Trash Fic [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dehumanization, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8060161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dornfelder/pseuds/dornfelder
Summary: Sam is captured by Hydra. It's the Winter Soldier who eventually comes to save him.





	

They catch him as he tries to break into an office building in DC, one that seemed to be deserted. As it turns out, Hydra has used the basement as a safe house, and Sam triggers an alarm without noticing it. He tries to get away, but someone gets him with a tranquilizing dart. Before he passes out, he can hear their surprised, delighted laughter. 

_________________________________________

"We're good at breaking people," the Hydra goon says. "Don't you worry. It's a long, slow, painful process, or so I've been told. First we tear you apart, then we put you together again. Maybe the pieces won't quite fit the way we want them to, so we'll have to repeat the whole procedure. Rip the pieces off, start from the scratch. Until we've thoroughly _reformed_ you." His smile is a grimace. "You know which part I like best?" He doesn't wait for Sam's reply. "The best part is getting to destroy you, ruin you. Just you wait, pretty boy. We'll make a mess of you." 

Sam stares at him, doesn't react. He doesn't doubt that the guy is right. He can only hope that the Avengers will find him first. He'll just have to hold out for as long as possible. 

_________________________________________

They rough him up, beat him, kick him until his nose breaks and he almost passes out from the pain. Four guys, masks on their faces. They stay silent as they smash his head against the wall. It takes less than five minutes; then they leave. 

The cell is made of concrete, and now the concrete is painted with blood. His blood The ceiling is too high to reach and the light comes from everywhere around him. He doesn't know where he is – no longer in the office building, no longer in DC, that's the only thing he knows. They drove for a couple of hours and the air was cooler when they pulled him out of the car to bring him underground. They took his gear and his clothes. It's cold and he's shivering, fighting the urge to curl into a ball. Instead he slides down the wall, draws his knees up, tries to breathe through his broken nose. _Find me,_ he says to Steve in his mind. _Find me, before it gets worse._ It _will_ get worse, that much he knows.

Hours pass. He doesn't know how many. No noises from the outside, nothing. Until suddenly there's a scraping sound, a hatch opens and someone throws something into his cell: an energy bar, and a bottle of Gatorade. 

_________________________________________

On the second day – or it might still be the first, it's impossible to track the time – they come and rape him. Sam doesn't offer resistance as they throw him to the floor, but there's a part of him that wants to, desperately, as he hears their derogatory remarks, as they pull their zippers down and talk about how they're going to fuck him. He braces himself, stiffens as they touch him, as hands come down to hold him in place, and tries not to flinch when gloved hands pull his ass cheeks apart and a dick nudges against his ass. 

"Tight like a virgin. First time, sweetheart?" one of the guys taunts him. Sam remains silent, tries to keep his breathing slow and deep. It doesn't work. 

He doesn't get a lot of warning. Hands tightening around his hips, then a violent thrust that forces him open. He can't suppress the cry of pain: it hurts. It hurts like nothing has before. 

They take turns raping him, one guy fucking him while the others use the opportunity to taunt him. His ass and thighs are wet with blood and come.

"He takes it like a champ," one guy says with a laugh. 

The other one snorts. "Isn't that what niggers do?"

"Sure," the first one says easily. "It's in their nature."

The third man pats his back. "Always wanted a nice little slave of my own." 

The fourth, pounding into Sam's ass, moans obscenely loud. His balls slap against Sam's ass. He pulls out for a second, then sticks a gloved finger into the sticky mess. "Wet like a girl's cunt. Hail Hydra." As he pushes in again, Sam feels tears running down his face. He didn't know he'd been crying.

It goes on for what feels like an eternity, a burning, searing hell of pain.

They piss on him before they leave. 

_________________________________________

Silence, blood, and thirst. Horrible, horrible thirst. Sam would kill for something to drink, anything, and when someone enters his cell and pours a cool, too-sweet liquid down his throat, he swallows, grateful, even though he wishes he had the strength to resist. 

_________________________________________

The whip bites into his flesh. 

"Say it," the man says. 

Sam keeps quiet. 

"Say it, and we'll stop," he man says. "Say it."

Sam shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as the whip comes down again with a crack, as he feels his skin break, bathing his back in liquid fire. 

_________________________________________

The hospital, he learns to hate. Needles, and an IV, the steady drip pouring life back into him, one drop at the time.

_________________________________________

"Say it. Say it, and we'll stop." 

"No."

"There are three other guys in line after his one, waiting. You don't have to go through this, you know. Just say the world and it will all stop. 

"No."

"Too bad."

Sam passes out before the third guy is finished; a small mercy. 

_________________________________________

He doesn't know how long he's been in their cell, how long they've kept him here as their plaything. Weeks. Months, maybe. His body is a mess of bruises, cuts and burn marks. But Hydra aren't amateurs, they have doctors who heal everything with the same efficiency the put into breaking him. He's given up hope that the Avengers will find him. He's on his own and it's a matter of days until he'll break. He knows it and he'd hate himself for it if he weren't so damn _tired_. 

_________________________________________

They fuck him with a dildo. It is coated with something that burns, something that makes him scream himself raw and beg for them to stop.

"Say it," someone whispers into his ear. "Say it and we'll stop."

He sobs, tears streaming down his face. They're just words. He knows that. They're just words, it doesn't mean anything. 

"I'm a slave," he whispers at last, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Whose slave?" the mans asks, gently, relentlessly, and someone twists the dildo in his ass, pushing it deeper into him. 

"Hydra's," Sam croaks out. 

The dildo is pulled out and a moment later something drips onto his lower back, and someone's finger pushes inside him to spread something cool and balming that lessens the pain and make the burning stop.

"Good", the man says, and pets his hair, which has grown out into a mess of curls. "See, that wasn't too bad, now was it?"

Sam doesn't reply. He just lies there, drifting in and out of consciousness.

The petting stops and the man caresses his cheek, wiping away snot and tears. "I think it's time we gave you a name. We'll call you Dog."

_________________________________________

"Kneel, Dog." 

Sam kneels. 

"Get up. Raise your right arm."

Sam gets up and raises his right arm. 

"Good, Dog. Now go to your knees again. Stay there. Don't move." The man puts a hand on his collar, pulls it taught.

Sam kneels, and coughs as fights for air, and hopes that if he behaves, they won't whip him again tonight. Finally the guy lets go and takes a step back to unzip his fly. 

"Open your mouth," and Sam closes his eyes while the guy pulls out his dick, and obeys. He fights his gag reflex as the guy pushes in and starts to fuck his mouth.

_________________________________________

Sam is on all fours, one dick in his ass, one in his mouth, as the cell door flies open and a guy dressed in black, with a mess of tangled black hair covering his face, raises a gun and shoots both of his rapists before it fully registers. Suddenly his mouth his empty, he can breathe again as the guy in front of him slowly collapses. The one fucking Sam's ass slumps on top of him. As Sam shifts his weight, he falls to the side, his dick abruptly sliding out. 

Sam slowly, painfully, sits back on his heels. He stares at the Winter Soldier. It takes an effort to form words; it's been days since he's been permitted to speak. "Sh-shoot me, or help me – don't – I don't care which."

Cold, dark eyes focus on him. The Winter Soldier's face, unmasked, tells him nothing. The guy just stands there, still like a statue. 

"Do you want a turn?" Sam says hoarsely. "Stop looking at me. Christ. Why are you here?" The words come easier now, but he's starting to feel lightheaded.

"Do you have anything to dress?" The voice is flat; it's barely a question.

"No," Sam says. The Winter Soldier tilts his head at one of the dead guys. "Fuck, no," Sam says. "Find something else. Anything else. And – do you have a knife?" 

The Winter Soldier frowns. 

Sam lifts a shaky hand and touches the collar. The Winter Soldier relaxes a fraction, nods and takes a step toward him. Sam flinches. It's not something he can control, it's just – the Winter Soldier might be willing so save him, but – but – 

The Winter Soldier reaches for a knife with deliberate slowness and offers it to Sam. Sam takes it and as his fingers close around the hilt, he also takes a deep breath that feels like the first one in forever.

_________________________________________

The Winter Soldier brings him to a safe house of sorts: an empty apartment in the outskirts of Chicago. A dirty mattress lies on the living room floor, surrounded by military equipment, empty take-out boxes, and papers – files, blueprints, charts. Sam sinks down onto it. It feels weird not to sit on bare concrete. 

He stares up at the Winter Soldier. "What should I call you?" 

The Winter Soldier stares back down at him. "Barnes," he says after a moment. 

"Right," Sam says. 

He flinches as something is thrown into his direction and hits the mattress, only to bounce off of it. A cell phone. "Call him," the Winter Soldier says.

Sam stares at the phone. His hands start shaking and he balls them into fists. "No," he says, and doesn't recognize his own voice at all. "No. I can't." The thought of calling Steve, telling him what happened, it's … no. 

Barnes looks at him. Sam meets his gaze. "Not yet," he says. 

Barnes lets out a sharp breath, then reluctantly nods. 

_________________________________________

They move from town to town, going after Hydra. They make a good team once Barnes realizes that Sam is a force to be reckoned with. With or without his wings, Sam's a formidable athlete, he's fast and agile and has good reflexes. Once he's fully healed, they start training: hand to hand combat, knives, and guns. Sam's ruthless too: they go after Hydra, and Sam has no intention to let any of them go. He kills without mercy, possessed by a dark rage that seems to be the only thing that keeps him going.

At night, they sleep together, sharing body heat and nightmares. Barnes can't stand to be touched at his face, and he hates anything that threatens to restrain him. Sam … Sam can't stand to be touched at all, but it's okay to curl up against Barnes' back, and bury his face in his hair. It's soft and mostly clean. 

_________________________________________

Months pass and Sam still isn't ready to call Steve, even though Barnes repeatedly tries to convince him. 

"No," Sam says, "not yet," and, one time, "not without you."

That night, Barnes kisses him, just a soft press of lips, and Sam doesn't shy away from it at all. His lips tingle. Barnes smiles at him and Sam smiles back, helplessly. "Yeah, all right," he says, voice wavering. "Yeah, okay." 

_________________________________________

Seven months, two weeks and thirty-eight hours after Barnes has freed him from Hydra, they stumble into the Avengers during a mission in Los Angeles. Sam turns around a corner and there they are, Stark and Natasha and Steve, who is just knocking out a Hydra agent. 

Then Steve sees him and freezes, shield in hand. 

"Sam?" Steve asks, eyes wide, and as Barnes enters the room behind Sam, " _Bucky_?"

"Fuck," Barnes distinctly says, and in a split second, before he can turn tail and run, Sam has grabbed his belt and pulls him back. 

"Stop," he says. "Stay. It's time." Barnes shakes his head, intent on getting away, and Sam takes a step toward him and cups his cheek with his hand, smiling as Barnes leans into the touch. "Stay. For us. For me," and finally, Barnes nods.


End file.
